His Clothes Are Dirty, But His Hands Are Clean
by ThyDeviousViolet
Summary: Arthur throws all caution to the wind, and goes after Mary in Saint Denis. Drunken antics ensue.


_In the RDR2 universe, this is set specifically after the scene where Arthur and John are setting dynamite for the last train robbery. Arthur decides to heed his own advice: "It weren't us who changed."_

_Also, fuck tuberculosis. Everything is canon except for that part. I refuse to acknowledge TB in this specific story._

* * *

**And here I am makin' ****_a god damn foolua'_**** myself ****_again_****. **

"Mary?!"

He was in the midst of a drunken tirade which began in the Saint Denis saloon. That was at least two hours ago by his calculation, though he could consider at this point that perhaps he was beyond reason.

"You know Mary Linton?" he stumbled down the street, and asked passersby.

If it hadn't been so god damn poorly lit in the city at night, maybe he could have kept his balance.

"Sir, this is inexcusable for a gentleman such as yourself!" an urbane woman critically remarked at his antics.

"_Gentle_man? Where!?" he called, and then began to laugh hysterically.

He'd gotten all dressed up, in his absolute best, to impress a certain someone. He'd even had a shower and a shave. But now, as words slurred out of his mouth, he wondered if he should continue at all.

Maybe it had all been a grand mistake.

He'd left the gang some days ago. He wasn't the first, and he wouldn't be the last, to leave their sad situation in Beaver Hollow. But, he felt a sense of guilt nevertheless. In addition, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been on his own.

A lot of things died with Hosea and Lenny. The first was Dutch's sanity, but the second was Arthur's own faith. He didn't see that coming back, and given the discussion he'd had with John, he realized he needed to take his own advice.

He'd felt almost numb to the core, until he remembered what he'd promised Mary. When the thought of her returned, paired with the chaos and dismemberment at camp, he quickly made his choice.

But, when Dutch had left him to die, it sealed the deal. He'd written a letter for Charles, Sadie, and the Marston's, before he disappeared into the night.

If Dutch wanted to destroy everything they'd worked for, that was good and fine. But he refused to play a part in the final act of a nightmare. It broke his heart to leave, but he feared the worst for everyone if he stayed.

If there was one bit of goodness left in him, it was saved for Mary. Perhaps that was why he'd adored her so all of these years. She reminded him of all the things he could never be, and she had the temperament of a saint. It was no wonder she ran from him all these years.

God, he loved Mary. He'd always loved her. Made him feel like a schoolboy again every time she called for him.

He felt that maybe, just maybe, this could be their time. Even if he was here on a whim, he'd made an ass out of himself plenty before to have learned to ignore his pride.

Of all the sins, that was one less frequented.

He'd stumbled his way into the district where she'd been staying before. He hoped that she was still there, having returned to Saint Denis in desperation to save her father. In fact, maybe her desire to save her father was much like her desire to save him from the life of an outlaw.

Who had decided that poor Mary Linton should take pity on unfortunates?

He swaggered into the hotel where she'd been staying.

"Hey feller!" he waved drunkenly to a man who'd opened the door for him.

"S'cuse me sir, s'cuse me. I'm wonderin' if you got a Mary stayin' here? A missus Mary Linton," he rambled, and accosted the man at the front desk.

This was a nice establishment, therefore not the kind of place he'd ever been.

"We are not at liberty to discuss that. Are you all _right_? You look drunk out of your mind," the man at the desk refused him.

"Listen here! She got brown hair, and she's a pretty little thing. You tellin' me you're not gonna tell me if she's here? I ain't askin' to go up and see her, I jus' wanna inquire," he rambled further.

"Sir, this is near public indecency. You're shouting, do you know tha-"

"-I ain't shoutin' yet dammit, this is shoutin'! You wanna hear some shoutin'?" he aggressed.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time to leave, before I call the authorities," the man promised.

Arthur's eyes went wide in mock horror. He clenched his chest dramatically.

"ThE AuThOrItIeS?" he cackled loudly, and giggled to no end.

Suddenly his face became grave.

"Mister, I'm gonna ask you one more time. Mary Linton_ here or not_?" he spat, and sobered some.

The man at the front desk paled.

"3rd floor, Room 314."

* * *

Somehow, as he rode the elevator from the lobby upstairs, he sobered immensely. He felt adrenaline pump through his veins, and his stomach churned. As he got off the elevator, he stumbled for a moment, then took a deep breath. He pulled out a half empty bottle from his pocket, and took a few big swigs to finish it off.

He fixed his hair in the mirror in the hallway, and checked his teeth. Then, he stared at the reflection for a bit, before he sighed.

"You idiot, Morgan," he chastised himself.

Suddenly, he heard a gasp. He turned drunkenly around, and was dizzied.

"Arthur…Arthur is that you?" he heard the voice of an angel.

His stomach soured even more; he felt his face grow red with blush.

"My lady…" he lead, and smiled in embarrassment.

Mary smiled brightly and ran toward him, before throwing herself into his arms.

"It is _so_ _good_ to see you. Why are you here? And all dressed up no less!" she boasted.

"I told you I'd come back. I always come back," he simply replied.

She looked at him very lovingly for some time, but then her face instantly fell.

"Arthur, you smell very much like whiskey," she frowned.

"I was uh, at the saloon for a bit 'fore I stopped here on the way," he explained. He could feel himself slurring more as the adrenaline wore off and the bottle he finished started to kick in.

_Shit._

"What are you doing here?" she asked, and seemed sad.

"I told ya, I come back for ya. I'm a man a' my word. Figured I'd come lookin' where we last saw each other. Why you still here?" he questioned, trying to move her attention.

"I decided to come back and stay for a bit for check on Daddy. I certainly didn't expect to see you again here like this…but I _am_ glad. Are you all right? Please, come in and sit down with me."

She lead him into her room, which was much more lavish than the ones he was accustomed.

"Why was you out there in the hall?" he asked, as he slumped down into the couch. She stood nervously in front of him, and fidgeted about the room.

"Well, I had planned to go down for dinner, but this is much better," she said sweetly. He tried hard to read her expression, and despite her nervousness, he felt her to be sincere.

"Aaw, Mary if you's hungry, less' go on down and get a bite to eat," he jumbled his words, and shrugged his shoulders.

The small smile that teased the corners of her mouth fell again. She frowned, and huffed.

"Arthur, you're drunk," she repeated, and seemed to get frustrated. He raised his eyebrows, and felt his face continue to flush.

"Yeeaah, I'm feelin' pretty good. I'm…I'm sorry Mary. About this, and for everything I ever put'choo through."

She blinked, then looked down at her hands.

"Why are you all dressed up?" she finally inquired, and changed the subject. The cute little frown on her face was real, but he had a hard time taking it seriously in his current state.

"I wanted to impress you," he simply slurred, and shrugged.

Her eyes widened, and she softened significantly. However, shame and embarrassment started to cloud his judgement. Suddenly, he wanted to run and hide.

He took a deep breath.

"…Uh, I gotta say, I feel pretty dumb havin' got' settled in here now, though. Don't know how I expected this to go. I'm sorry for botherin' you," he stared off in the distance, and finally stood to his feet before stumbling around the room.

"Oh, Arthur, don't feel dumb. I'm glad that you've come, I just wish you were more yourself. You do look very handsome, I should say," she offered.

He paused and tried to read her again.

A shit-eating grin painted his face.

"You think I look right handsome?" he slurred even more.

She rolled her eyes, sighed, and then stood up after him.

"You look very handsome, but you're too drunk for me to appreciate it! You need to sleep this off," she urged, and tried to usher him to the bed.

"Daaw, Mary I just got here! Less' get us some food. You got a' appetite, right? Let's get some food in yer belly," he disagreed.

"I'll be just fine without. You lay down there, okay?" she guided him the bed and got him settled.

"C'mere and lay next to me. We ain't lay together in years, Mary," he reminisced.

"Arthur!" she chastised, and reddened.

"Naaw, I ain't mean it like that. I won't try nothin', I'll be a perfect gentleman. Just laaaay next to me, I won't even touch, see?" he rolled over on his side to face away from her.

She stood there for a moment, unsure, before she climbed into bed with him.

"See? Ain't so bad. I'll be good," he promised. She simply sighed, and got a good look at the state of him next to her.

"I know you're not. I trust you. Really, I do. Would you like to tell me what you're doing here?" she began.

"I came to hold up on what we talked about last time I saw you. I got money saved, and I ain't livin' the life I used to live no more. I've come to tell ya I changed, if you'll have me," he tried to keep it very simple, but he tensed up as he explained.

"I've…I've waited for you, do you know that? It's…it's one reason why I'm still here. I just never thought you'd actually come back," she responded.

He simply stared at her, and felt his breath taken away. Arthur felt his chest would explode with joy. He hadn't felt joy in a long, long while.

"Well, good then!" he finally said.

"I…I appreciate all of this, but we're gonna have to have a real conversation. One where you're not drunk as a skunk in my bed. Okay?" she tried to sound stern, but she knew it was to no avail.

"Sure!" he replied, his accented drawl increased with the liquor.

"I think we should turn in early. I'm gonna go in my bathroom to change into my night clothes. You need to change out of that nice suit before you ruin it! Do you think you can handle that while I change?" she inquired, and watched him closely.

"Sure, sure!"

By the time she had changed and come back, she found him in a heap on the floor, as he struggled with his right pant leg.

"Arthur!" she groaned.

"Daaw, Mary, I'm sorry. I almost got it, see? Just leave me be, I'll fix it. Don't want you feelin' uncomfortable!" he continued to struggle.

As he continued on the ground, she prepared a blanket and pillow on the couch for her to sleep. In his current state, it was the least she could do to give him the bed. After a long moment, he'd finally slipped out of his dress pants.

He was left in his underwear and an unbuttoned french cotton shirt.

"Whatcha think?" he asked, and finally stood up, before staggering back into the bed.

"I think I wish you'd brought something else to sleep in. But, at least we can save your nice suit. Oh Arthur…I do care for you so. I just don't know why you've come to me this intoxicated! Are things all right for you otherwise?" she inquired from concern.

"Been a straannge few weeks, but yeah, everything's been all right. I just…I got so worked up to come see you. I uh…needed a little liquid courage," he explained, but very slowly.

She watched him carefully. It looked like his lids were becoming very heavy.

"Are you feeling sleepy? You should get some rest," she tried to speak gently.

"Yeeeah, I'm gettin' there. I'm such a fool Mary. Why you over there?"

He lifted his head up from the bed and frowned to see her on the couch.

"You need to get some rest, so I'm letting you have the bed to yourself," she tried to explain.

"Nooow, I know your a lady of virtue, but don't forget all them nights we had when-"

"-Arthur Morgan!"

"Whaaat?" he asked in exasperation.

"Let us be decent, please. I'm not entirely comfortable with that with the state you're in," she stated, very firmly.

"I don't want you bein' uncomfortable. Okay? But, I would like it if you were over here wit' me at least. I knooow I look uncharacteristic, but believe me when I say I'm fine," he tried to reassure.

She studied him closely.

"Oh, Arthur," she sighed.

"Donnn't you worry about me. Just c'mon over here wit' me. I'll keep you warm. No funny business, I ain't that kinda man," he continued.

She gazed at him, half in exasperation and half in affection. She _did_ want to be near him, for what it was worth. At least long enough for him to calm down and go to sleep, so they could actually communicate.

Some moments later, she threw all caution to the wind and climbed into bed.

* * *

**(The Next Morning)**

He sat up in bed, then groaned, and slumped back down. A gurgle teased inside his belly and threatened to spill over. He opened his mouth slightly and managed a meek burp that resonated in his chest.

"…Arthur, are you unwell?" she almost pleaded. He jumped at her voice, but found comfort in her presence.

He chuckled.

"Naw, stomach's just sour. It'll pass," he attempted to soothe her concern. When he looked up into her eyes, he could see the worry painted on her delicate features. Oddly enough, it felt kind of good to have someone worry on his behalf.

"Would you like something to drink? Some tea? Oh, Arthur, you look a wreck. I'm so sorry."

He could still feel her gaze, but he was somehow unable to look at her anymore. He couldn't decide whether it was shame or guilt. Regardless of whatever pleasure he got from her affections, he hated to make her feel so unsure.

Maybe if he'd have done a better job with her feelings, she'd have been his long ago.

"It weren't your fault," he mumbled, and tried to get more comfortable laying on his back.

"Arthur- "

"-Miss?"

He felt her stiffen, then take a deep breath, before she had nuzzled closer to him.

"…Come here."

With one soft hand, she rubbed gentle circles around his abdomen. The contact almost embarrassed him, and he snickered from nerves, but he couldn't quite place the reasoning for his disdain.

"Aaw, c'mon. I'm all right."

The low drawl in his voice was deeper than usual. She noticed, and tried unsuccessfully to resist its charm. When he finally tried to move away from her touch, she refused him.

"When was the last time you had decent human contact, Arthur Morgan? It's no crime for someone who cares to fawn over you."

His heart almost leapt, but he tried to suppress it.

"Drinkin' is one of the few things left in my skill set. I'm sorry to tell you miss, but I don't need coddled," he scoffed.

"Your poor belly is twice its normal size. You need _something_."

She continued to rub his abdomen. It eased the sick feeling. He relaxed a bit, and gazed down at her for a while.

"Just you," he mumbled.

She stopped for a moment, and then moved away. Suddenly, she was frustrated with herself and the mess of the outlaw that was left of him these days.

"What are we _doin'_, Arthur?"

The exasperated tone her in voice made him want to scream.

"I came here because I've loved you all these years, Mary. I came here cause' I'm a god damn _fool_ for you. Don't misunderstand, this ain't no mistake or chance. I came here because I needed to be here."

The words flowed from his mouth unlike the way he'd ever imagined it. Part of him was intensely disappointed. It didn't sound nearly as romantic as he'd have hoped after all this time.

She just scoffed.

"Oh, stop this nonsense. You're a menace not likely to change, and I'm a widow, for god's sake!"

He felt like he'd been burned.

"We _talked_ about this here in Saint Denis, just like we'd talked about for years. I said I was gonna get us some money, tie up any loose ends, and then I was comin' to be with you. So now I'm here, and you wanna play me like you always played me, is that it?"

"I wasn't expecting this so soon. I feel there's something you're leavin' out. I need you to be honest with me. What are you runnin' from?" she demanded.

He scowled, and felt himself get frustrated.

"I'm not runnin' from anything. Hell, I'm runnin' _to_ you! You think I'd put you at risk like that? I'm not an honorable man, but I'd be damned if I ever willingly put you in harms way."

She was silent for a while. He stared at her, and struggled to read her complicated expression.

"I…I know you wouldn't. And…I know that you care for me, the way that I care for you," she finally said.

"Listen a' me. Please," he begged, and held her tightly. The desperation was evident.

"Mary, I love you. I have _always_ loved you. And I woulda married you all them years ago if you'd a' had me. But you wouldn't then, cause' the way I lived my life. I don't want that life anymore. I don't even know what that code _is_ anymore. All I know is, I always done right by you; if that ain't enough for you, then we can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."

She felt the tears prick at her eyes, and she choked back hysterics. He could feel his heart was breaking, but he placed his rough hand on her freckled, warm cheek.

"Arthur Morgan, you're a good man. Despite the way you've lived, I have _always_ known you were a good man. And I have _always_ loved you. I just…we need stability, and decency! What about Daddy?"

"I can give ya stability and decency. Your Daddy has done nothin' but wrong by you. Did you even hear the way he spoke to you here the day we went out after him? I'd a shot man for less than that. He ain't stable, _or_ decent."

"I…I know that you're right. I just don't see how I can go against him. I can't expect you to understand that, but I don't want to live without you either. I'm just…I'm so troubled, Arthur."

"Do I make you happy, Mary?"

"Arthur-" she struggled.

"-Do I make you happy?" he interrupted, eyes severe.

"More than anything. You're all I've ever thought about," she replied, meek but truthful. The tears finally started to pour down her eyes.

"We both done _lost_ too much and _suffered_ too much in this life to keep wastin' it. I'm leavin' my old life behind because it don't suit me no more. Between Dutch and your Daddy, we let things get in the way. _And I am not gonna let anything else get in the way_."

The determination in his eyes proved to be too much. Her lower lip quivered, and she began to weep into her hands. He swallowed hard, and felt himself beginning to get just as upset.

He moved toward her to hold her tight, and she buried her face into his chest. The warmth of her tears on his skin moved him to no end. It made him feel like a sick bastard to take relief in her emotional display, but it proved to him that they were on the same page. He nestled his fingers into her hair, and smelled the sweet scent of her.

"Shh, shh shh…"

He cradled her into his chest and began to rock.

"We're gon' be okay, you hear me, miss?"

After a long, tender moment, she immediately shot back and glared at him with a wild look in her red, wet eyes. He could sense desperation. It was a look only a widow could give. She'd endured darkness in his absence, for certain.

"Promise that you'll commit to me and an honest life."

He eyed her carefully, but nodded in complete agreement.

"That's why I'm _here_."

She stared into whatever soul he had left, and contemplated hard. In fact, she contemplated much longer than he was comfortable with.

"Then, I promise to always put you first," she vowed.

His gaze now looked almost incredulous.

"Mary…"

"Let's runaway, Arthur. Please. Let's just go. I have wanted this so badly. I feel I have the courage now," she all but pleaded. If she waited, she feared they may lose the opportunity forever.

His eyes opened wide, and he felt his heart patter terribly against his chest. It was the first time he'd felt real terror in years.

"I have money, you know…" he started.

"Oh, I don't care for that, silly man. Please, please tell me we can just run away and be together. I'm afraid if I wait, we'll talk ourselves out of it like we always have," she insisted, and the desperation now seemed to be mixed with joy.

He eyed her cautiously, worried he might get his hopes up for nothing.

"Are you sure?" he tried to tread lightly. He felt he would soon shatter into a thousand pieces should she allow this fantasy of his to take shape in reality.

"Yes, yes, a million times yes, Arthur! Please. I have money too, for what it's worth. When can we go?" she said, now entirely blissful, with a grin and happy tears to match.

He felt it was all so surreal. There was a warmth he felt tingle all the way from his toes to his head. It felt so silly for her to still have such an effect on him, and yet she did.

What was this emotion? Was it…excitement? He'd forgotten.

"Mary Linton…you amaze me," he mumbled in wonder, and looked her over with starry eyes.

It felt god damn magical.

He swooped in and pulled her closer. The smile on her face was so bright it glowed. When her lips parted for him, their tongues danced together for the first time since they'd been teenagers.


End file.
